Page 57 of A Daring Pursuit

Geneva shivered. “At least there wasn’t blood involved this time.” Wincing, she cut her gaze to Mr. Oshea where he stood by the windows.

Those keen eyes were on her face—correction, on her… lips.

She opened her mouth to express her own regrets, but the words stuck in her throat.

He prowled toward her. Stalking her. Like the big, black cats of the Amazon jungle of which she couldn’t recall the name.Her fingers tingled. Perspiration gathered between her breasts. She was rooted to the floor and could do nothing but stand there. Waiting… because her lips burned to feel his. Weighted lead settled in her feet, rendering her lethargic, unmovable. An Elgin Marble. Her thought processes seemed functional, but her mobility, no. He was a male Medusa and she’d caught the eye and was frozen in time.

“You,” he said with a harsh bite, “drive me wild. In a way I can’t explain. God, that I could. To myself, leastways.”

His words cracked the encasement that held her spellbound and she grabbed him by the lapels and sealed her mouth to his. The moist heat mirrored other things happening to her body she couldn’t describe.

A whirling fire blazed through her core to her heart. She was where she belonged in that moment, with this man. Her own impulsive nature, which she so despised, struck with a vengeance.

His tongue swept between her lips and into her mouth, officially taking command ofherkiss,herbody. Her reaction. Nothing belonged to her anymore. The sensations roaring through her stole even her ability to breathe on her own. As if he were the one breathing life into her blood, knowing she would expire on the spot if his tongue stopped stroking hers. Would freeze if he set her from the warmth she now embraced.

The world as she knew it ceased to exist. Whatwouldan affair of the heart hurt? The traitorous words whispered through her.As long as they were discreet—

She jerked her head back and fought the arms holding her. Her feet weren’t even touching the floor. “Set me down, you blackguard,” she ground out, disgust swamping her. To become his mistress stood against everything she believed of herself. The loss of her friends’ respect would crack her soul into a million pieces. She couldn’t do it.

Men may rule the world, but they did not rule her.

Confusion darkened his gray eyes to molten iron and she spun away. “I best check on Miss Hale.” Her words emerged more breathless than cool as she’d intended. “I’m sure you know the way out.” She turned for the door, anxious for escape before she either capitulated and ran back into his arms or burst into tears. Neither being an acceptable outcome to the tumult thundering through her.

“I came by for one other reason.” His words, calm as the ocean breeze, cut through the thinness of her frock, and she glanced over her shoulder. “Isabelle wishes to play for you. A musicale, if you will. And Julius…” He heaved in a breath and passed a palm over a face that looked as tired and haggard as she felt. His hand fell away and he speared her with a directness to rival her own. “I expect you’ll be returning to Stonemare. We’ve still to locate your ruby,” he said softly.

Yes.But not for that reason, she wanted to rail,but for you…

“Of course. I’ll return tomorrow. With Miss Hale,” she added harshly. “I don’t think she should be left alone.”

“Certainly not. As I said, I shall notify the parish constable regarding Chaston.”

Her insides softened. “I’m sure she’ll be grateful for your help.”

“Grateful?” For the first time since Mr. Oshea had arrived, a small smile tipped his lips. And the sight devastated her. Threatened the lifelong self-assured opinions she held herself to.

Oh, Mr. Oshea was a dangerous, dangerous man.

She strode to the door. “Until tomorrow, then.” Once outside the drawing room, she put her fingers to her sensitive lips and closed her eyes.

“Then I shall return for you in the morning, Miss Wimbley.” Soft yet steely determination sounded through the door. Thewords sent her scurrying up the stairs and to the safety of Miss Hale’s sharp, uncompromising rebukes.

Geneva deserved every lashing dished out for her own stupidity.

*

Geneva leaned backagainst the closed door in Miss Hale’s elegant chamber. “You should get out of that gown. I’m no lady’s maid. I dress myself, as I suspect you do.” She heaved a sigh. “But I’ll assist you if I must. Unless you’d like Pasha to assist you?”

“Don’t bother. I don’t wish to go back to Stonemare.” Miss Hale was curled in a ball of grievance upon her massive bed, her eyes and nose red from a treacherous bout of sobs.

The only way to handle a disaster of this magnitude was with a stern hand. It would be no different than dealing with an unwelcome situation on Berwick Street. “You do not have to go tonight. It’s much too late. We shall leave first thing tomorrow.”

Miss Hale shot to sitting and pointed at Geneva. Her normally perfect coiffure stuck out in various places. “I won’t, and you can’t force me.”

With narrowed eyes, Geneva drew on her Berwick Street firmness. “Oh, I can, and I will.” She stalked to the bed and grabbed Miss Hale by that finger. “You listen to me, Docia Hale.Miss—” she said at the same instant Miss Hale did. Geneva inhaled a deep, steadying breath, wishing she possessed a modicum of Abra’s placid composure. “I will not allow you to remain here alone.” She let go of Miss Hale’s finger, went to the vanity, and poked around until she found a lace handkerchief. She stalked back to the bed where Miss Hale had lain back down, curled up in the ball again.

Geneva lay on the bed facing her and pressed the scrap in Miss Hale’s hand. “I’m sorry about your father,” she said gently.“But he’s been gone nigh on twenty years. If you force me to stay here with you, I shall make your life hell. Do not test me on this, Docia. I know what I’m about. Berwick Street is not Mayfair.”

“You don’t understand,” she mumbled into the hankie and, to Geneva’s surprise, the pretentious miss hadn’t corrected her name.

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